Impulse: A Passion
by Crystal-Clear Hope
Summary: What is an Impulse? You figure it out.   WARNING: Rated Major T-M. Dark themes. Some language. Angsty. IchiRuki. Hints of UlquiHime .
1. Prologue: Unbalanced

_"Act __on your impulse, __swallow the bottle, __cut a little deeper, __put the gun to your chest."_

_—__Ellen Hopkins_

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What is an impulse? The urge to do something reckless? But really, if you don't take chances, you're wasting your dreams.

**But what if your dream was to waste your chances?**

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The Takasaki Institution for the Mentally Unbalanced Youth.

Unbalanced is an understatement.

Unbalanced as in watching the skin part slightly, the walls of flesh that were divided, and the red elixir starting seeping up.

Unbalanced where someone different everyday takes advantage of you so that you could feel loved in your life.

Unbalanced is when you feel like wrapping your arms around someone's neck to the point where they turn blue in your arms.

So that you can regret everything you did afterwards…

Unbalanced…

More like so down on the side of the seesaw there is no up.

We are the psychos.

* * *

_Rukia's POV_

Home. This is where I belonged.

So dark you can't even find the door out.

Thinking about those days where you were the girl in the yellow dress, brown sandals, and the cute hair clips. Thinking about those days where you got kisses, balloons, and trips to the zoo.

Thinking about those days where you were the perfectly happy popular-yet-not-popular-type in your first year in high school, living with her sister and her husband. The popular that was not popular because she was a rich blond she-dog. But because you loved everyone, everything, and life itself.

Thinking about those days where things got so screwed and you were stripped naked of your happiness, sitting in the hospital watching your motherly sister turn into a corpse with her eyes bugging out. Feeling the icicles your perfect brother shot into your back with his eyes. The accusations that the beeping life-machines were shrieking at you.

Thinking about that day where you tried so hard to run away from him. The day you didn't want to hurt him. The day you killed with your own hands the person you loved the most. The day you became a monster. The day people kept trying to tell you it's not your fault. Lies. It was all lies. You were a demon of the worst kind.

The day you decided it was enough. No more kids at school whispering "she killed…she killed." No more Byakuya nii-sama chewing his food in disgust as he looked at you from across the table. No more sympathetic looks gifted to you by Ukitake-teichou. No more Kuchiki elders insisting on you being disowned if you couldn't "buck up". It was you, the pills, and God.

Thinking can be your killer if you wanted it to be.

"Rukia. Prepare yourself; we've arrived to your new boarding school."

"Hai, Nii-sama."

Home is a huge building waiting to swallow you whole. That wanted to suck your emotions till you were as dead-grey as Hisana and Kaien.

* * *

_Ichigo's POV_

This is the fucking institute? Looks like a university where geniuses go and study. Wonder what freaks roam the woods here.

Keep biting the piercing on the side of your lower lip until its raw.

As raw as the ripped skin that digs and makes blood curdle you get when you fall of your bike.

As raw as the lies your therapist tells you as he insists that you'll "break to the surface".

As raw as your soul is now, trying to heal the gunshot and grip on to life.

As raw as the screams you choked as your mother fell into the water that was destined for you.

But that is a different story.

All you have to do is walk to the intern, flash her a smile, give the specialists some emotional shit, and you're on your way out.

Because this place is a waste of time.

If you can't fix yourself, no one can.

So deal with it.

This is your world. Your nightmare. You screwed it up. You pay the price, even if the price is your life.

And you keep walking with your head high as the freaks of this school –patients, doctors, and employees- stare at the fiery orange newbie as he chews on his lip.

* * *

_Orihime's POV_

You can't help but feel a pang in your heart as you stare at the cutsie kids that come in here every day.

The ones with the long scars running up and down their arms like rivers.

The ones with puffy, permanent marks on their faces from God-knows-what kind of abuse they've been through.

The ones who look completely miserable with the sunken eyes and yellow skin.

The ones who lose control at the mirror, swearing that they gained two pounds when they were walking sticks of bones.

And sometimes I wonder, if Ulquiorra wasn't the one who dragged me her because of his job, would I even be here to see this mess of sadness. To see these young people who can't connect their hearts to others?

Would I even know of them if I wasn't working here?

Sigh…If they only made me in charge of the cooking here, I'm sure I could spunk them up.

Especially with my red bean paste noodles and buttered sweet potatoes.

Mmmm. I am starving.

"Woman, _what_ are you doing with your mouth open and eyes closed?"

* * *

_Ulquiorra's POV_

Trash. All the unbalanced kids here have seen trash. Trash that's made them trash.

Opening this institution brought money, fame, sadness, and trash.

This is a new year. New kids being given a tour. The higher level ones returning from their vacations to their families. The others who stayed here during the summer were leaning on the doors, watching everything else in silence.

Trash.

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**(A/N: Yay! First chapter! It's a bit short, but they'll grow bigger. And it will probably become darker. I will try my hardest to update, but please keep in mind that this fanfic is in a delicate spot. Arigatou!)**

**Review, review, review! XD**


	2. If You Only Knew

_"And the sweetest, spellbound feeling spilling from her heart."  
— Lauren Kate_

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Whoever says sadness and desperation is a weakness should go screw themselves.

Sadness makes you wary of everything and anyone. It makes you smarter than any teacher you could ever have. You know to look for the signs of safety.

Desperation gives you strength. It makes faster, stronger, and you can endure more. Desperation is the anger you feel once you realize offing yourself didn't work and you were in some fucking hospital. Desperation is what makes you want to claw your way out of the hole, no matter how deep it is.

But sometimes desperation gives you the strength to know that sometimes you just have to leave everything and everyone behind.

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_Rukia's POV_

Night walks are lovely. Their like a sacred prayer. Walking around in the big park (garden) behind your home, you can sit and beg of God. Blame God. Blame everyone. Blame yourself.

Because in the end it's your entire fault.

Night walks were the time where you were able to draw beautiful X(s) on fleshy paper with sharp pencils.

Because you felt nothing.

It's your fault your sister is now six feet under. It's because you know your brother will always hate you for what you did. It's bad because you know nearly the whole clan wants do disown you. It's worse because you deserve to live forever in a dingy cell. Or be led roughly to the electric chair.

It's your fault you are where you are now. _X marks the spot._

You come back to reality once you realize that the lady with the bright blonde bob of hair and classic bubble gum smacking in her mouth. Despite all that icky-ness she looked normal, not completely fake.

But she was staring at you.

You knew how you looked.

Dead-alive.

You've seen yourself. Sitting there with your back slouched. Knees brought up to you chin. Chewing on the black and purple nail polish on your nails. Fists clenching your gray pleated skirt. Eyes staring straight in front of you constantly, empty and glassy, in front of you. But behind the dullness was a civil war.

Completely unresponsive.

You look down to the paper in your hands. All the "forbiddens" (even more important than normal rules) written on it were jumping out on you and dancing in front of you.

"All packages, suitcases, or bags of any kind sent to the boarders will be scanned."

"No metal of any kind (including: cans, compasses, and such.)"

"No plastic or glass utensils for safety reasons. All utensils will be silverware."

"No school supplies may be taken out of the classroom."

"No using the bathrooms without attendants."

"Food must be eaten accordingly."

"Boarders are completely forbidden to enter the kitchen."

"Dorms will be checked every two days."

"Curfew for all boarders is at exactly nine. All boarders must be in their dorms if not asleep. Visits to other dorms must be signed and scheduled. No walks in the school or out on school grounds after curfew."

The lady leans over to you and breathes, "Don't worry. Just so that you don't feel violated or anything, the cameras aren't turned on all the time."

They took your freedom away.

Your fists clench harder and the permanent bracelet of x(s) around your wrist screamed louder for attention.

Fucking bitches and bastards.

Mocking you.

Enjoying your pain.

* * *

_Ichigo's POV_

Nothing is more disgusting than some slutty intern making moves on you as she's blabbering about the rules and conditions of this place for crackpot fools.

Slutting around with that low cut blouse. Legs crossed so that the pencil skirt slid up a couple of inches. Completely disgusting.

Especially if your slutting around with a _patient. A fucking patient!_

God…

So here you are sitting trying to tune out everything that the whore says.

You see a mirror behind her and you start drowning in the foamy, angry water.

_It wasn't fair. _

_It was raining. You couldn't see in front of you. The wind shrieked and the thunder roared. The heavy droplets of water were pounding on the umbrella. Like bullets. _

_It wasn't fair_

_You were only seven. You were bawling on how you couldn't get strong enough to beat a girl. And your attention was caught by a bright purple gem on the river. _

_It wasn't fair._

_How were you supposed to notice the river changing into a demon that could swallow you whole? How were you supposed to see how your mother was worried about you? How she ran and grabbed you away from the edge._

_It wasn't fair. _

_That she hadn't noticed the murderous vine growing out of the ground. How she had gotten tangled in it…How she had arched back, shock written all over her face…_

_And you were scared, so g-g-goddam scared…_

_And you felt the vile creep up your throat when she r-r-rasped your n-n-name…_

_And you weren't ready to let go…_

_And…_

Your eyes snap open. The slut had finished talking.

You could feel your body beginning to cool down.

Your rough, calloused hands go up to your chest and lay themselves on the dent in middle of the plane of your chest.

As the intern talks to his father she catches his eye and winks at you.

Screw this shit, the whore can go do herself.

You looked down at the paper in your hand. **"Absolutely Forbidden" **was written at the top in bold. He slowly read through it.

Fuck, this place is the cage of hell.

* * *

_Rukia's POV_

Finally, the tours are over with and you've been shown to your dorm. It was technically a big living room with couches, TV, and such while there are 5 different doors leading to the personal rooms.

You were given another billion papers to "read in your spare time".

Yeah, sure.

And finally you were standing outside of the front doors. The limo was parked in front of it and your brother was adjusting the Kenseikan in his hair.

A hard bubble starts floating up your throat as you realize that he was leaving.

Leaving from here.

Leaving you here.

No! You want to scream. Beg him to take you with him. Plead with him that you'll get better. That you don't need to be here. You want to shriek and hold on to his leg like you did as a kid.

But that was not the ways Kuchikis acted. It was completely indecent and unladylike.

Like everything else you've done.

Your brother stoically nods at you. "Farewell, Rukia. I trust that you will act responsibly and try your utmost to heal?"

Something in the way he said it made you sick.

Like he was just saying with no intention of believing it.

But you just nod just as stoically and say, 'Hai, Nii-sama. I will."

But he was already in the limo and the door shut in your face.

He nodded again and was on his way.

Leaving you to stare at the back of limo until it was just a figment of your imagination…

* * *

_Ichigo's POV_

It was time for the crappy good-byes and all that bull.

Strangely today your father was calm and serious. No more fucked up failure attempts to make you smile or fight back.

He stood in front of you and put his hands on your shoulders.

Before completely enveloping you in a sudden hug.

"Hey! What the fu-"you scream before you're completely interrupted.

"Live to the fullest, Ichigo. Live to the fullest, age to the fullest, go bald to the fullest… and die long after I do. And if possible, die with a smile. "

And with that Kurosaki Isshin lets go off you completely, and turns to get out the door. He puts his hand on the doorknob.

"I'll tell the twins you say hi."

You nod numbly.

And he's on his way out.

You wrap your arms around yourself where your father had previously protected you…

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**A/N: Well chapter two is up and posted. Hopefully you all enjoyed it. And for those who are wondering about what Isshin said, they are actual quotes made by him**

**So please ****review, review, and review!**

**Arigatou!**


	3. Think

_"So you try to think of someone else you're mad at, and the unavoidable answer pops into your little warped brain: everyone."__  
__**—**__**Ellen Hopkins**_

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You don't think about it for the longest time and it becomes a doubt, a dream. Yet…It happened. And there's nothing you could do to undo it.

And then they ask you why you're like this.

You hear the nurses whispering like the devil behind your back, but in your ear. 'The family didn't raise her well.' 'Little bitch should be locked up in prison.' 'Ichigo, where's oka-san?"

Keep asking.

You'll never get an answer.

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_Ulquiorra's POV_

Hm.

_Kurosaki Ichigo. Kuchiki Rukia. _

He pressed the intercom that lead to the front secretary's line.

"Insert the information of the two new boarders into the system, Nel. Now." He was bored with these people.

He looked up at the sweet woman sitting on the couch in his office, immersed in a cooking magazine.

"Orihime." She looked up. "I want you to go to Kuchiki Rukia, who is currently standing in the middle of the stairs on our front entrance and help her out a bit."

She nodded. Got up, kissed his cheek and skipped out.

He smirked before silently creeping back into thought again.

He always wondered why he even opened up this institute.

He has heard other people claim him to be the one who "understands what kind of troublesome catastrophes have spun these young men and women off their course."

That was not what he personally thought though.

He did not know what to think.

All he knew was that he opened this institute so that it can be a success.

It did not matter why he opened it in the first place.

Not yet, anyway.

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_Ichigo's POV_

The dorm was painted in a dark forest green; in fact all the rooms were painted in a dark forest green with black or white furniture-it's your pick.

You take out a couple of shirts and fold them into the dresser, thinking about what the rest of your stay here will consist of.

And what condemned you here in the first place.

Damn the moment you took up martial arts. Damn the moment your mom volunteered to take you back home. Damn the moment you were even born.

Because there are people, like you, who are damned when they were born.

And there was nothing they could do about it.

Like a birth defect. A missing limb, a deformed face, an incomplete brain. You were also born with happiness. Some people have a missing part, too.

It's just not seen. And when it is…

It's too late, my dear.

Because it went downhill from here. Until you broke your crown. And someone came tumbling after.

The hill was really long. You keep walking down.

That was the difference between you and other people.

While they tumble down, you walk down willingly, slowly.

Hold in the hand of an invisible ghost.

And you keep chewing your lip piercing until your skin burns, a warning that, if you continue, the crimson floodgate will break itself out.

You look at the alarm clock beside you. 8:30 P.M.

You take off your shirt, your muscled and toned chest, the big black serpentine tattoo on the top of your arm glaring out.

You rip back the white covers.

And you sink into the cushion of the bed…that is not your bed.

But you were so tired, so fuckin' tired.

* * *

_Rukia's POV_

You stood outside for fifteen minutes in the chilling wind, tracing and imagining the route it would take to get back home with your eyes, until one of the employees, a busty orange-head with a kind, clueless, and clumsy smile, wrapped a blanked around your shoulders and led you into my dorm, where I was to unpack the last (and personal) bag.

As she stood in the corner of your room the girl whispered softly, "My name is Orihime Inoue. I'll be helping you out until you're ready to be on your own here. The employees here were already ordered by your brother to unpack for you. There's a paper on the desk telling you where everything is."

You nod your head stiffly and state blankly, "Kuchiki Rukia."

Your eyes roam the room, the dark forest green walls and black furniture. Thankfully, her instructions this time were followed and everything was put where she wanted it to be.

Her eyes left the rich carpet she was studying and poking with the heel of her beige boots and peeked out from under her long lashes at you. "Would you like some hot chocolate sent to you? You're still shivering."

That is when you look down at yourself and notice the fact that your body is shaking violently. It wasn't from the cold though.

But you weren't about to tell her that.

"Sure. It's a bit cold here. Thanks." The muscles of your jaw silently screech in agony and grind like metal against each other as the edges of your lips come up in a shadow of a smile.

At the thanks and the "smile", Orihime brightened up. "No problem. Goodnight."

As she went to go to the kitchen to order the hot chocolate, you strip out of your gray and purple pleated skirt and the black blouse with the gray tie, into soft black silk and lace pajamas.

You peel the covers off the bed and cautiously sit in the bed. The door knocked announcing your hot chocolate's arrival.

"Come in."

A girl with black ponytails and a crude smile stepped in and placed the tray of hot chocolate on the nightstand before she scrambled out. You bring up the swishing hot chocolate to your lips and close your eyes.

Trying not to allow your quaking body to spill the scorching liquid onto your lap.

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**A/N: Chapter 3! Review! Review! Review! Please? And I'm not sure if anybody noticed that Ichigo and Rukia's parts are all written in 2****nd**** person, while everybody elses is written in third. This has a reason, and you'll notice changes towards the end of the story.**

**Arigatou, guys! And please keep reviewing! =) **


	4. Shattered

_**Special thanks to all those who reviewed:**_

_**falconrukichi, 0namakiza0, gaaralover1989, Blueberry Absinth, and shrug.**_

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Her bones shook and shattered like glass. She kicked against the wall opposing the toilet with her full strength. She rammed the front of her forehead against her knees. Her fingers dug into her hair and she pulled desperately.

She was going to die. She wasn't supposed to be kept alone. She would die. And no one would be there to help her. She would die alone. Alone.

She slapped her cheeks and scratched at her face. Her teeth bit into her tongue and a coppery, irony taste spread through her taste buds like a plague.

She was going to die. She's all alone. She wasn't supposed to die alone. She's all but royalty. She's a member of the noblest clans. She wasn't supposed to die alone!

She bit harder in the cloth stuffed into her mouth.

Her body kept shaking and shaking. Her teeth rattled against her head. In that little bathroom of room 11. The room at the edge of the hallway. The hallway in the large, dome like building. The building that is far away from home. In the bathroom of room 11 of the large, dome like building, was a girl with desperate eyes, wild hair, a shaking body, and muffled screams…

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_Ichigo's POV_

You have to get up, wash your face and brush your teeth, change into black jeans and a dark blue t-shirt, and notice how everything's in black and white.

Your life is like a movie playing scene by scene until you drop dead and just fuckin' die already.

It's too bad your movie is like half a star worthy. Doesn't even make it to a fuckin' DVD worthy.

Look in the mirror, shove your light-bulb worth hair to the side, glance over your face, chew on your piercing and be on your way out.

You trudge down the hallway looking at the –of course- forest green paper in your hand.

A schedule. The words were dancing around, spinning, black against green. Mocking you.

Numbers laughing joyfully as you trudged around your extremely large cage. Because no matter how large a cage is, it's still a cage.

With bars. And locks. And people with shitty minds that don't work properly who sit lifelessly in chairs in offices, speaking monotony, as their souls bang on the door and plead to be let out until the end of the one hour therapy session.

And halls filled with loud chatters of young people with bubble gum commercial smiles, believing that they will be released from this cage, alive and sane. And others who mutter to themselves insanely, no longer caring about their sanity as long as they're out.

_"One foot in front of the other, counting tiles on the floor so I don't have to focus the blur of painted smiles, fake faces."_

You look back down at the schedule.

**8 – 8:45 A.M: **Meet with Unohana-sensei and Isane-san.

Great. A shrink.

All you needed now was a shrink.

_Bam! A sound of books toppling to the ground. _

"Hey! What the fu-?"

"Ow. My head…"

You look up. You notice a thin, short girl with shining unruly raven black hair and the deepest amethyst eyes ever possible to be given to mankind.

She pouted. Stood back up onto the short heels of her white metal ankle length boots and straightened her black pleated skirt, the edgy silver studs glistening in the hall light. She pulled her carefully sequined, silver halter top back down to her hips and dusted off her white blazer, the thick, metal, wrist-hugging bangle reflecting a glow, her thumb ring ringing against the buttons.

_Smack. _You need to slap back into reality.

She looked…upset? Your eyes follow down to what she's looking at. Her gray stocking were ripped at her knees.

You look back into her eyes. "Sorry."

She attempted, and apparently nearly died in the process, to smile and whispered "It's alright."

You pick up the books she dropped and hand them back to her.

She drops them into her black messenger bag. Another whispered thanks, and she was on her way in the opposite direction of where you were heading.

You watched her enter the office marked: _Shiba Kaien __–__ Faculty Advisor._

You look away.

You lift your foot to keep walking, to attempt living, when you hit something. A little black, gray, and blue notebook was lying there. You lift it up and open it to take a peek.

**_Kuchiki Rukia_** was written in pearly blue ink.

* * *

_Kaien's POV_

She said her name was Kuchiki Rukia. A pretty girl she is. Dark hair, violet eyes, and she had great long legs that contributed the most to her petite height.

Delicious.

She looked at him with extraordinary eyes, their beauty outlandish. Beautiful. Dead.

"Excuse me, Kaine-dono. But my brother told me that Yoruichi-sensei was going to be my therapist" –the word was spit out-"but it says Unohana-sensei here." She handed him the paper.

He pretended to look over the paper as he raked his eyes up and down her body. She wasn't a slut. No. Her dressing was conservative. Her eyes mostly modest. A prime candidate for fun.

He quickly looked up her name in his laptop and saw that she was right. Yoruichi was her therapist. He fixed the error and printed out the new schedule.

"You're right." He said as he handed her the paper. "Yoruichi is your therapist."

"H-h-hai. Arigato", she stuttered and walked out.

Fun. This was going to be fun.

* * *

_Rukia's POV_

You must not shake. You must not _shake_. You must not shake, Rukia!

Do not shake. Do not shake. Do not shake. Do not shake. Do not shake.

The noise is too much. The noise disturbs_. _The noise scares.

They were laughing. Who could laugh when they were condemned to life in prison.

They were screaming joyously. Why would anyone want to be joyous.

The noise causes the shaking. The noise and laughter and screaming has to stop.

Do not shake. Do not shake. Do not shake. Do not shake.

_And the more that they joked,  
And the more that they screamed,  
She retreated to where she is now…_

You can do this. Hold it in. Do not throw up. Don't clench your fist so tightly, you'll make yourself bleed…

That's right. Walk down the hallway, you heiress. Raise your head.

Raise your head up, pretend you are okay.

Pretend so intensely that even you start to believe it.

_"It [death] chokes you, gags you, but you have to pretend that you're doing just fine, not trembling with this fear because the end is close."_

_**-Ellen Hopkins**_

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**A/N: We are finally on chapter four. Late upload, I know. But I have been writing these 1, 100 and something words in ten minutes each day until I got here. Special thanks to Ellen Hopkins, Elizabeth Scott, Marie Digby who have all supplied this story with such lovely quotes. **


	5. Make It Make Sense

"_I can't tell you what it really is__, __I can only tell you what it feels like…And right now it's a __**steel knife**__ in my __windpipe.__"_

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Only you can pay the price for what you have done. You must pay it.

It's a debt that will follow you into your grave and back out until you claw and scream at yourself.

"_Please, stop it…"_

See, people think we're the crazy ones. After all, who's the one in the mental institution?

But we would like to set the facts straight.

That we are the smart ones.

Smart enough to pay the price.

Smart enough to know that we are freeing ourselves from the debt every time we slice with our precious best friend, edges straight and set. Hard metal that no skin can ever safe itself from.

Don't be offended by our best friend. Her words are a little _sharp. _

Either way, in the end…

We will laugh and mock you as you pull at your hair, shred your skin, and pull the trigger in the afterlife. We will writhe in giggles.

Consider it a payback for everything you ever said, mocked, or whispered about us.

So, for our short lives, we pay in quarters of crimson, because it's the right thing to do.

While you enjoy what you have now, because the collector's coming soon.

* * *

If you have learned anything through your sixteen years of living is that you are not you.

I will never refer to me as me.

I am you.

You are me.

It doesn't make sense?

Well, too bad.

Let's hold hands and carry each other. Let us feel each other's pain.

Close your eyes and count to three.

And wipe all your tears for me.

* * *

_Rukia's POV_

Breathe in. Breathe out. Make sure your heart is beating…Excellent.

You're alive…Not so excellent.

You want to hide behind the curtain. Shut out all the red eyes.

You never believed in vampires. Didn't. Until you saw these creatures.

What is it to them? What do they want?

They never tell you, so you don't know.

And you head out to your "writing" class.

_The large chestnut grandfather clock struck at five to nine._

_Pause. Take out the evergreen schedule._

_**9-10:15: Writing **_

_Okay… You had just graduated high school early and you are spending the time you are taking off of school before college here._

_Oh, Kami! What if you're going to college here?_

_An early graduate? Here? _

_What were you taking "Writing" for?_

_It completely contrasted with classes such as, "musical therapy" or "Electrify Me to Life" sessions._

_It would be as Hisana used to quote. "Something that has to happen,even if you don't understand it."_

_Hisana…_

_**BAM!**_

_****_Memories can burn right through you, like a fist full of hatred and despair through your chest. But of course, you've felt that before.

_BAM. _Goes your mistakes.

_BAM. _Goes your anger.

_BAM. _Goes all your wishes for hanging on to reality.

Time and memories are tenuous things. They are stronger than steel. Yet, even hands worn and bloodied from despair and hatred can mold, stretch until they are nothing more.

Until you can't remember how long ago "it" happened.

Until your memories hit a couple black walls when you're reminiscing.

Because, honestly, you can't remember. Not anymore.

You can't remember what you used to remember because you pushed those dreams away.

You can't remember anymore.

Because your memories can't go back before the time you were kicking your legs in a sea of white.

You pray to see gray now. Because gray means your stable. You're half normal at least.

Black means danger. Means you are going to drop. Means your going to scream and self destruct at any moment.

You look through the small window on the glossy wooden door. Trying to find an un-awkward seat, before you notice orange.

It was him.

Sadly, black is what you are seeing in the corner of your vision as you step into the polished class for _writing…_

_

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_**Augh. This chapter was supposed to be longer. I swear it was. But there isn't enough time. I just couldn't **_**write **_**anymore. Second semester at school and I'm behind on credits. Hopefully, a more moving chapter is coming up next. ^.^**

**Review, review, review. **


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